Midnight Angel
by Nalana
Summary: On a particuarly bad night, Charlie appears to Jack a la Grace stytle to listen, help him sort out what's in his head. What's bothering the General? SPOILER WARNING. No major ones,major spoiler may not be true. Rating may not be necessary.


W-A-R-N-I-N-G!!!!!! This story contains some SPOILERS for season 8! YE BE WARNED. Turn back NOW if ye don't like such things. ALSO. There spoilers are within, but not all is. Some are my assumptions from what I've heard.

Archiving: Ye want it? Just ask!

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Cool amber burned like hell. It morphed into a delightful feeling as the lava trickled down his throat, settled in his stomach, and bubbled it's way up to his brain. Thank the heavens for Jack Daniels; the poor man's wine. And while Jack O'Neill wasn't the poorest man, he'd take whisky over grapes any day.  
  
"You really shouldn't drink that stuff, you know." A small sand-haired boy of about nine sat beside him, frowning pitifully.  
  
"Uh-yea." Jack wrinkled his nose as he finished his shot, only to poor another for himself.  
  
The boy stood and snatched the bottle up from the marble coffee table. "It makes you mean, dad." He screwed on the cap and put it on a stand far away from the General's reach.  
  
"Charlie, I never was mean to you when I drank." He rubbed his eyes, sleepy seeds from exhaustion scattering. "Now be a good boy and bring that back here."  
  
The boy ignored his request. He wasn't surprised. Ever since his death, his little boy would come and act as a conscience for him whenever he was starting to fall off his senses. Just as in those other encounters, the boy was trying to keep him away from drowning himself with liquor. Old Danny boy could have done it just as well as the illusion, but, he didn't want to get Daniel involved in his wallowing.  
  
"No, not to me, to yourself. You were never really mean to me." The boy opened a drawer close to him and pulled out a well-worn red yo-yo.  
  
Jack watched the toy twirl up and down, creating a kaleidoscope of colors. Fatigue was starting to win. The carpet and walls started to swirl together into a homogenous blend. He didn't stop to blink away the water that collected at the bottom of his eyes, only focusing on the tornado before him. He clung to the colors as if they could carry him away, make him forget for one night.  
  
That's it, forget. That's what he was trying to do. He was trying to forget about the fact he had to swing out of bed at 0600 tomorrow morning and clamber over to Cheyenne Mountain. He was trying to forget that he had to face his men, and women, like it was another great day in the Milky Way. He would have to try to tell Teal'c to move on with his life instead of helping him through the same experience that he went through. He had to face Carter like she hadn't just shattered every hope he had thought was buried under twenty tons of sarcasm, duty, experience, and will power.  
  
"Ta' hell with it." He pushed himself off the couch to make his way over to the bottle only to plop back down on the creaky sofa.  
  
Charlie stopped playing with his father's favorite toy and sat on the edge of the table, swinging his feet. The Brigadier General glanced at him with a scowl on his face. He hated when his son gave him that look.  
  
"What? What have I done now?!" He asked as he slammed the bottle onto the table with such force that the wood quaked and the liquid sloshed up, a few droplets spewing out from the top.  
  
"You should talk to him. It happened to you to when...when I ..died." The boy swallowed hard, choking on his own words.  
  
Charlie didn't have to tell Jack whom the who was. Teal'c had been wary of his son's future bride. It turned out that his caution was well earned. It was because of her parent's allegiance that Ry'ac had been slain.  
  
Of corse Teal'c had been given time off. And Jack had been at the funeral beside him. But other then that, he had been silent. It hurt too much. To see his best friend fallen victim to the same fate that came to him was unbearable. He couldn't stand and watch him, help him, through his sadness. It tore open too many scars.  
  
He hated himself for not being able to assist his friend. Were it the other way around, Teal'c would be there in a heartbeat. After little thought O'Neill had concluded to handle this situation with this the way he did everything else that troubled him. He would transform his world into stone. That way he didn't have to ponder how much he had cared for the boy who had been like a nephew to him.  
  
From behind him, the phone started to ring. The noise pierced his ears, causing him to wince. He motioned to swing his hand onto the device that emitted that rough sound when Charlie's hand stopped him on the answering machine's equally atrocious beep.  
  
"Hey, Jack! It's Kerry. I'm sorry about walking into your office like that today. I hope I didn't interrupt. Sam looked pretty upset. I know it's none of my business, but is she alright? I'm sorry. I'm rambling. Do you want to meet me for dinner tomorrow night? You said that all teams were do back. If you feel like it, give me a call." a sweet voice came over the room.  
  
Kerry?... Kerry...Kerry who? His mind ached. OH! Kerry, right, the women he had been seeing for the past couple of weeks.  
  
The brunette and himself had met at the SGC and surprisingly had enough in common. They hit it off at first. She was even into hockey; living in Canada for a little while when she was young formed that tendency. And the best part was: she wasn't in the air force.  
  
Now what conversation did she interrupt? Another sip into the whisky brought him to the answer he searched for. Sam...no, Carter... had come into his office earlier to explain the whole thing. This, 'whole thing' that had his head swimming.  
  
Pete had proposed to her about a month ago. She had asked him for advice, which made his heart wrench. But first and foremost, he was her friend, someone to lean on. So, he had given what she sought to her, and stumbled out of the lab fighting the urge not to punch something. Charlie visited him that night, too.  
  
When he first saw the diamond actually on her left finger, he had tried to ignore it. But now, it was impossible to hide from. Apparently the cop had bought her this nice little home complete with a garage for her beloved bikes and vantage car, white picket fence and little doghouse; the American dream.  
  
It wasn't that he didn't like Pete. He was a good guy, good to her. He had even helped them when Teal'c was charged with murder to straighten things out. They may not have found him if it wasn't for Shannahan's assistance. No, he had no doubts that he'd make her happy.  
  
But how could he see her come back from her honeymoon with him, geared up and ready to go onto the next mission? How could he deal with her coming into his office one morning with 'that glow' around her, telling him that in a few short months she would have to request maternity leave? Could he bare to hear her tell everyone one about Jr's first steps, first day of school, and so on?  
  
He'd simply have to face it. There was no way he was going to barge into her life and make some kind of ridiculous 'confession' that would simply leave her confused. He wouldn't have her ruin her chance at a life after he had been telling her to get one for all those years. And if it wasn't with him, then at least he knew that the guy was decent. If that didn't work, he was suer Ba'al wouldn't mind another Jaffa...._NO. stop it, O'Neill_. He scolded himself.  
  
Then there was Daniel. Ah, Monkey-Boy. He had been pissed at Jack since day one, since he had hid under a pile of paperwork. Jackson didn't think it was right for him to be ignoring the two people Jack 'supposably loves like they are family' because of 'petty reasons.' Walter, god bless him, had fended off the archaeologist/linguist for a while, but eventually he made it into Jack's office. The show-down started.  
  
What was worse, was he knew that like usual, Daniel was right. He was just too damn stuck up and stubborn to admit it. He was scared. He felt like his world was slipping away again. He felt like he was doing a tailspin to the ground without an eject button. With one last sorrowful swig from the bottle, he threw it into the fireplace. The satisfying splintering of the material made him jam his eyes closed.  
  
Inside him, some string had been plucked. Something snapped within, and the waterworks began. Tears flooded down his cheek, his chest quaking with breath. He didn't care anymore. His grabbed the apparition of his son and clung onto him as tightly as he could. The anxiety he felt came flooding out in a river of salt.  
  
"I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry Charlie. I'm sorry for being such an ass. I can save the god damn planet from the goa'uld but I can't keep those around me from being killed. They've all left, and they'll keep leaving, because I'm too damn weak to do anything about it!" He screamed into the empty room as he slipped from his seat on the couch and onto his knees on the floor.  
  
Time had passed, though it seemed like seconds. The only reason he knew that it had was the slight throbbing from his bad, and now stiff, knee that was bent beneath him. That was only a reminder of what he had given up to protect others, and how it didn't seem enough. His son stood over him, holding him, until all Jack saw was the back of his eyelids.  
  
As he sank into dream, he saw the faces of his friends before him. He saw Charlie, Kawalsky, Skaara, Share, Martouf, Janet, and Ry'ac; the ones he couldn't save. And then, he saw darkness. 


End file.
